


Window Shades

by CaffieneKitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, John Winchester's Dubious Parenting, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-23
Updated: 2006-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffieneKitty/pseuds/CaffieneKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John observing Sam and Dean sometime shortly after the flashback scene in "Something Wicked"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Window Shades

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written when I didn't like John very much, about three days after I realized I was obsessed with the show. This is the first Supernatural fanfic I ever wrote.
> 
> _Originally posted on fanfiction.net April 23, 2006, reposted to Livejournal in October 2006_

Smelling of charred greasy fur and drying blood, John Winchester had pulled into the parking lot two minutes ago, wanting nothing more desperately than a shower, some minor first aid, and a hunt that _wasn't_ a false lead on his wife's killer. But he had sat in the darkened car for those two minutes, watching the lit motel room window. 

The two boys inside had been squabbling over the remote in front of the TV. At a final pout from the little one, the older brother threw his hands in the air, abandoned the conquest of the remote and stalked over to the kitchenette table. He sat down on the far side, and began tinkering with something. 

So normal. It all looked so normal. It wasn't hard to think the older boy was maybe building a model car, that he'd sat in that particular chair because it was furthest from his little brother and the TV. It wasn't hard to think the boys' mother was just in the other room, and would come in to check on her boys at any moment. Any moment. Any moment now. Now. 

But she would never come. 

Dean sat at the table, feet not touching the floor, loading shotgun shells with rock salt. He'd picked that chair because it was the best position to watch his brother, the door, and the window at the same time. And though John couldn't see it through the window, he was sure it was also the chair with the shotgun closest to it. All as ordered. 

After the Shtriga incident, Dean had become almost robotic in following orders regarding Sammy's safety. A grim little soldier. Though it was not what Mary would have wanted, John was gratified. Sammy needed a protector, one that could be depended on to follow orders immediately, without questioning. One lapse from Dean had nearly cost them Sammy's life. Something so precious and fragile, nearly lost forever. Again. 

Watching Dean and Sammy do something as normal as scuffle over the remote... it hurt. It was a view of the normal life that had vanished in flames and blood. 

John wiped a hand over his face, smearing the grime around and scowling. No looking back. No regrets over lost impossibilities. Pain and weakness would not kill the thing that burned Mary. John now wanted nothing more than a few beer, and to teach his eldest son a lesson about keeping the lights off and the heavy curtains pulled on motel room windows after dark, to hide what was inside. 

To block the light. 

John got out of the car.


End file.
